


ghost of you ;; woosan

by P0RCELAINS



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, San-centric, Woosan, i think???, inspired by Ghost of You by 5sos, originally wrote this for my michael stan friend, really vague, she cried, the tags are a mess as usual, this is kinda sad, you guys decide what happened to them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 21:09:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P0RCELAINS/pseuds/P0RCELAINS
Summary: a story wherein san revisits old memories he shared with the boy he used to love and the boy he used to love revisits him.





	ghost of you ;; woosan

**Author's Note:**

> hello, here's another sad woosan au bc they bring out my angsty hours:D
> 
> the summary is probably temporary idk i cant think of anything else rn
> 
> listen to ghost of you by 5 seconds of summer on repeat while reading this for the full experience bc this story was inspired by their song. (im still 5sos trash tbh)
> 
> anyways, enjoy!

**—San**** stood in front of the door. **That same dark wooden door that welcomed him every single day for three years along with a boy that broke his heart too much to think about. His eyes scanned the wood. Every little nook and every little cranny seemed to bring back more memories that he’d worked so hard to push down and forget, but here they were resurfacing just like he had. He never thought he’d be back here, but lately he’d been feeling an ache in his chest which only grew more and more overwhelming as the days passed and he just _had_ to go back, if only to keep him from losing his mind.

The fact that this place still existed, that it hadn’t been rented out to anyone since it had been abandoned amazed him. He expected to walk up to the receptionist only to be told that new residents already occupied the area, but he was greeted by a warm smile and given a single key.

“You know your way?” the elderly man behind the front desk asked as he reached out to receive the key with trembling hands.

“Yeah, thanks,” San replied. “May I ask why no one has moved in yet?”

The man simply looked at him confused, seeming to not really know what his question meant.

“I mean, no one lives there anymore so why haven’t you sold it to anyone?” he elaborated. “The rent hasn’t been paid in yea—”

“Actually, sir,” the old man said, cutting him off. “We’ve been receiving regular rent payment every month for the last three years. The place still belongs to you.”

San was taken aback by this information, blinking several times in shock as he tried to piece things together. In the last few years since he’d moved out, he had never laid down a single cent to pay for this place.

“I-I’m sorry but that’s impossible, I haven’t been payi—”

Then it dawned on him, making his hands involuntarily ball into fists. _He_ was still paying for the place and San couldn’t even begin to fathom why. What could _he_ possibly gain from hanging onto an old apartment unit that they had abandoned years ago? He shook the thoughts out of his head, not wanting to dwell on the reason because, deep in his heart, he knew why. 

“Nevermind. Thank you,” he said, shaking his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips, before finally walking away from the front desk and towards the elevator. It still creaked as it ascended and the doors still took a beat too long to open, but he’d grown numb to the defects and dysfunctionalities. After all, this was home. And after a couple turns he arrived at that old wooden door.

He spent quite a number of minutes simply staring at it, weighing his options, whether he should go inside or walk away just like he had all those years ago. He worked so hard to suppress everything, to push it all to the darkest parts of his mind where he knew he wouldn’t remember, but right here, right now, everything was rushing back to him like a tidal wave. As he was about to step away and leave, not wanting to drown in the flood of his memories and emotions, the familiar ache in his chest returned. It hurt so much more now and he found himself clutching onto his chest with a grunt. If visiting this place was all he had to do to get rid of the ache, then he’d gladly let himself slip beneath the currents.

With a trembling hand, he struggled to insert the key into the lock but managed to do it after a few attempts, before turning it and pushing the door open, eyes tightly shut, afraid of what he would find inside. However, when he opened them, all his fear and anticipation plummeted, replaced with overwhelming nostalgia that almost consumed him whole.

Everything was just how he had left it.

His old fuzzy blanket was still draped over the coffee stained couch as if he had just woken up, the sheet draped around his shoulders before he had discarded it on the greying sofa. A coffee cup still rested on the dining table, the spoon poking out of it already beginning to rust. As he wandered into the kitchen, the first thing that caught his eye was the pile of dishes in the sink, never washed and probably never to be washed. A wave of sadness hit him upon seeing them. And oh god, the tinfoil dinners they would have every night still sat in the fridge, most likely moldy and rotten from all the years they had been left there.

Out of all the memories he had attached to this place, his memories of those tinfoil dinners were the most vivid of them all. He remembered how disastrous they were in the kitchen, neither of them knowing how to cook. Usually they’d buy a bunch of takeout from different restaurants just to fill their fridge and every night _he_ would put them in the microwave for dinner, no matter how many times San reminded _him_ that tinfoil can’t go in the microwave. But _he_’d disregard his warnings every single time, leaving both of them covering their ears and running out of the kitchen when the foil began to crackle and pop. Then there were days when they were too drunk out of their asses, too numb to even hear their food exploding in the microwave or the fire alarm going off when smoke began to spread throughout their apartment. However when their tinfoil dinners did go right, the two of them would snuggle up on their couch and eat peacefully, cracking jokes every once in a while as they watched some shitty sitcom on their TV. And on special occasions, _he_ would pull San up with no warning, and they'd dance around their house like the madly in love couple that they were. 

_Were_. It's been far too long since they'd parted for San to feel like this, but there's just something about speaking in past tense when he was once so sure it would never pass. It hits him harder than he'd like to admit, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. _They were in love. What happened?_

From where he stood in the kitchen, he could almost see the silhouette of two people huddled up on the couch eating their microwaved pizza, could almost hear their laughter as the boy made his usual snarky comment towards the show they were watching, could almost see them waltzing in the living room. A little twirl here, a little dip there. San smiled sadly at the memory of bright days and happy nights as he continued to walk around the achingly familiar space, ending up in their old bedroom.

By the latter part of San's stay, he pretty much lived alone. Most of the traces of someone living in that apartment were of him. The book he had been reading before he left still lay on his bedside table, a bookmark gently placed between the pages where he had stopped and on top lay his old pair of glasses. A couple of stuffed toys still lined the pillow, his favorite one— he recalls naming him Shiber, but he isn't so sure anymore—still sat front and center. He had left a lot of himself behind, but the closer he looked, he found remnants of _him_ as well. Half the clothes that remained in the closet belonged to _him_ and he had stepped a bit too close as a waft of _his_ scent drifted towards him and he took a rapid step back, nearly making him trip over his own feet. But before he knew it, he found himself enveloped in _his_ scent as anxiety began to rise in his chest. And before he could run out of the apartment, escape his past once again, he was stopped by a presence in the doorway and he couldn’t stop the tears pooling in his eyes.

“San,” _he_ breathed, walking towards him as the other boy took steps back until he was pressed against a wall.

“What are you doing here? Go away!” San yelled once he’d found his voice again. “I don’t want to see you. Leave me alone!”

But _he_ just kept taking slow and steady steps until _he_ was right in front of the distraught boy. _His_ eyes were just how he remembered them. The warmest of browns that held the stars a way the sky never could, familiar and safe. _His_ eyes still felt like home and San couldn't resist the lull of what once was his safe haven.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, his voice small and cracking towards the end. It was heartbreaking.

“Because I had to. I didn’t have a choice,” _he_ replied and San could hear the sadness and regret in _his_ voice. “San, you _ know _ I didn’t have a choice.”

He both loved and hated how his name rolled off _his_ tongue with such ease, like it belonged in _his_ mouth, like it was only meant to be uttered in _his_ soothing honey-like voice. And within the millisecond it took for _him_ to say his name, everything suddenly felt okay again, but it was short lived as the memories of his greatest heartbreak replayed in his mind, his scowl making its way back to his face, but much softer this time.

“Then why didn’t you come back?” San asked. “I waited for you. I waited so long.”

“I-I was scared to. I was scared you wouldn’t be there waiting for me anymore.” _He_ looked down at his hands, looking ashamed. “But I did come back one day, a-and you really weren’t there anymore.” _His_ eyes flashed back to San's as a tear cascaded down his cheek. _His_ pupils were wavering, as if taking in every single detail of his face. “I guess I made you wait too long.”

The two stayed that way for a while, throat burning as he silently cried, taking each other in as much as they could, seeing how much had changed during the time they were apart. Strangely, _he_ hadn’t changed at all. _He_ was _ exactly _ how San remembered _him_.

“So.” San wiped his tears away, trying to muster a smile. “Why are you here?”

The boy gave him a sad smile as San reached out to take _his_ hand but his fingertips went right through _him_, making his brows furrow in confusion. 

“I’m not.”

Then San watched as _he_ began to fade away, disappearing from his life for a second time. The tears he had just wiped away were replaced by a flood of new ones. He should’ve known better than to think _he_ had actually come back to him. He was simply talking to a ghost. The ghost of the boy he used to love. The ghost of the boy he used to know.

He walked back out into the living area, picking up his coat that he had left on the couch before walking back to the way he came. He had no more business being in this place. It was stupid to even have gone in the first place. 

So with a heavy heart, San reached out to turn the doorknob, but immediately dropped his hand when he looked up to see a scrap of paper taped to the door, hovering just in front of his face, that definitely wasn’t there when he left. 

  
  


**To my dear San,**

**I saved this place in case you ever felt like coming back.**

**Please know, no matter where I am,**

**You’ll always find me here.**

**Yours forever,**

** _Wooyoung_ **

**Author's Note:**

> and that's the end!
> 
> i know this whole thing is really vague but it's intentional okay, their backstory is up to your imaginations,, and also i was too lazy to write a backstory.
> 
> and just a little note, all the pronouns that are italicized refer to wooyoung bc it got really confusing with all the He, Hims, and His's
> 
> dont forget to leave a kudos, and maybe a comment, and my twitter is @sanhours just in case any of u wanna follow me,, bye!!


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